He's not a douchebag; but that doesn't stop his friends from turning him into one.

MY FRIENDS WANT ME TO GET LAID.

So much so that they plastered my ugly mug all over campus, in bold printed letters:

Are you the lucky lady who's going to break our roommate's cherry?Him: socially awkward man with average-sized penis looking for willing sexual partner. You: must have a pulse. He will reciprakate with oral. Text him at: 555-254-5551

The morons can't even spell. And the texts I've been receiving are what wet dreams are made of. But I'm not like these douchebags, no matter how hard they try to turn me into one.

THIS ISN'T THE KIND OF ATTENTION I WANT.

One text stands out from hundreds. One number I can't bring myself to block. She seems different. Hotter, even in black and white.

However, after seeing her in person, I know she's not the girl for me. But my friends won't let up--they just don't get it. Douchebags or not, there's one thing they'll never understand: GIRLS DON'T WANT ME.

Especially her.

‘The Learning Hours’ is my first Sara Ney book, but I’m glad I chose to read this from the blurb, as I suspected that it had a very different kind of hero to grace the pages. Put a non-douchey jock who’s not good-looking, who calls out those who are superficial and douchey because he walks the straight and narrow? Now *that* is enough to make me moist with excitement.

It is easy to love Rhett Rabideaux from the start because he stands out as the only shining light of sensibility and integrity among the moral cesspit of the frat house and the rest of the athletes, though I felt so sorry for him for all the things he had to go through for just being himself. But considering it’s a book about arses, pricks and bitchy behaviour as well—pitched so perfectly that it’s easier to hate than like—so while it isn’t surprising to see all of it appearing as a thunderstorm over Rhett’s head, I questioned the sanity of Rhett’s pairing with a flighty, vain, mean-girl-type character whose depth resembles that of a roadside puddle.

Rhett’s straightforward cluelessness with Laurel after he got past his anger and her grovelling however, made me laugh; he’d won me over as a stalwart fan, so I enjoyed every moment of Laurel’s failure to play the dating and flirting game with him, as much as I relished how hard she had to work for his attention and friendship. Call it ‘character Schadenfreude’ or something, but the biting satire in some parts made those bits oh-so-satisfying when Laurel finally realises that Rhett is the real deal.

As much as I loved Rhett’s magnetic ability to change people because of his warmth and kind-heartedness, it did seem more important that the idea of physical attraction bring something that can grow on you even if the person isn’t blindingly modelesque good-looking came though (which Ney does show via Laurel’s stumbling journey towards enlightenment), maybe because that just isn’t emphasised enough in romantic fiction. That alone made a huge difference and while both Laurel and Rhett aren’t exactly on par with the likeability factor as protagonists, I can’t deny that I had an entertaining time with their story.